and it just so happens
by Landlordlikesland
Summary: Katherine Plumber has a secret locked deep in her father's house. One she doesn't want anyone knowing. She doesn't have much of a social life, and her only friends are the boys who deliver her newspaper. Of course, that changes when a well-known rough-around-the-edges man shows up in her closet and insists he's going to help her. She goes along with it, and suddenly things look up.
1. blank pages

**Okay so. I'm like,,,, fuckin ready for this story. For once I have a whole plot and everything all planned out are you proud? Basically this is like the book The Sugar Queen, which is really good btw, (it's by the person who wrote Garden Spells) but like,,, Newsies characters. If you haven't read the book, it's fine, you don't really need to, but if you have, you kinda know what's happening and have an advantage over everyone, aren't you special? (I think there's an excerpt on google reads or whatever if you want to read a little of it)**

 **ok so here's just some character roles!:**

 **Josey Cirrini: Katherine Pulitzer/Plumber (she also adapts some of Chloe's charter arc, just a heads up)**

 **Adam Boswell: Jack Kelly**

 **Chloe Finley: David Jacobs (minus the Julian part that's for Katherine oof)**

 **Della Lee Baker: Spot Conlon (STCK WITH ME BLS I PROMISE ITS NOT WEIRD)**

 **Julian (does he have a last name): Morris Delancy (ugh I know I'm so sorry)**

 **Margaret Cirrini: Joseph Pulitzer**

 **Jake (fuck what's his last name?): Racetrack Higgins (except not the cheating boyfriend part. More the 'boohoo I haven't seen my boyfriend for a while' kind)**

 **The old nice lady that helps Chloe towards the end (I forget her name but she was so great): everyone's favorite theatre mom Miss Medda**

 **Helena the maid lady: Hannah (bc I fuckin love this woman she doesn't get enough credit)**

 **And the rest are added in as extra characters but they still have important roles! Don't worry I'm not gonna throw away Crutchie I'm not evil.**

 **uhh on with the story?**

 **(oh also i envision them as the 2017 Netflix version that was professionally recorded so that's how they're gonna be described)**

* * *

When Katherine wakes up at eight o'clock precisely on Friday, she's excited to find frost painting her window and lightly coating the yard and shrubs out front. Good.

Frost means winter, and winter means exciting stories. More exciting than the fall festivals and summer flower shows, at least. Winter means house fires from woodstoves left untended overnight, blizzards that cripple the town, skiers and snowboarders flocking to the trails and mountains, looking for excitement.

She opens the window and sticks her head out, breathing deeply, relishing the crisp air that fills her lungs. She gazes out at the valley of Bald Slope, North Carolina, filled with old Victorian houses, trees older than the houses, and memorials older than both of those combined. Her day was brightened immediately.

Then she looks down and confusion clouds her mind, dimming her mood. There's a ladder propped under her window, cloudy ice droplets forming on the rungs, like someone had recently been there, dripping wet river water or something similar. She shakes her head to clear her mind and closes her window. It's probably from the builders who were there a few days ago fixing the siding. Yes, that was it. Despite her self-reassurance, she locks it after a moment's hesitation.

Distracted, she walks across her room to her closet, planning to grab clothes and get ready for the day. She opens her closet door, then screams and falls back, accidentally brushing her well-used Moleskin notebooks and countless papers and articles off her gigantic desk. They landed on the plush carpet with a muffled _flump_. Papers scatter across the room, but that isn't the problem.

There is a _man_ in her _closet_.

"Fer God's sake," he starts sarcastically, "don't freak out."

She studies him carefully from her perch on the floor, a safe distance from her closet. She's seen him before, haunting bars and working at a few different places, the most recent being the newspaper her father owns downtown. He's well known for his gambling habits and getting into trouble with his posse of boys.

"Spot Conlon," she says, slowly standing, "what the hell are you doing in my closet?"

He grins- no, _smirks_ , he has the audacity to smirk at her- and she notices distantly he has a small gap in his front teeth. It doesn't look out of place on him. He's wearing a dark red striped shirt and a dripping newsboy cap, which isn't odd, considering where he works, and the water explains the ice on the ladder.

His presence also explains the ladder.

"You kiss your daddy with that mouth?" He asks, but quickly falls short of whatever he was going to say after.

She hears her father stomping up the stairs, calling her name. Spot looks at her, panicked.

"Please don't tell 'im I'm here," he begs, something unrecognizable in his eyes. Desperation, maybe? She closes the door without a second thought, pushing down the warning bells in her head, the ones telling her about the consequences of closing it.

The first one? Keeping the man in her closet from being arrested. That was a big one.

"Katherine?" That was her father, opening the door slowly, filling it with the scent of ink and, for some odd reason, eucalyptus.

"Yes, Father?" She asks, mentally preparing herself for immense levels of passive-aggressive insults and reminders to hurry up.

He sends a noticeably judgmental look at the pile on her floor, the papers scattered around the room, the newspapers, and her heavily written-in notebooks, the margins scribbled in, notes on the front cover, cut out parts of the newspaper with drawings in them from the newsboy.

"What was that thump?"

"My uh," she looks around, searching for an explanation. "I. Fell?"

He nods distantly, not seemingly concerned. "Yes, well, leave it for Hannah to clean, then. I have an important meeting in my office at nine, and I don't want to see or hear you, understand?"

She nods dutifully.

"Good," He leaves, taking the tension with him, thankfully. She softly closes the door, turning to the other one, her closet door, with an obvious look of disgust on her face.

She opens it, glaring down at the face that is still smirking back up at her.

"So," she starts, pulling out an outfit for the day, "why exactly are you in _my_ closet?"

He shrugs, picking at a loose carpet thread as he looks up at her through his dripping cap and bangs. "Dunno. I needed a place ta hide, and this was the first place I thought of."

She nods skeptically and makes a noise of agreement. "Uh huh. And _this_ ," she gestures wildly at her room, "was the first place you thought of?"

"No one would find me here," he says simply, shrugging again.

She points to the window. "Get out."

He shakes his head furiously. "Can't, sweetheart. I needs ta make sure they don't find me."

"Who?" She decides to ignore his terrible grammar, instead opting to get answers. She needs a hell of a lot of those before she decides to just let him live in her closet.

" _Them_." He spits out the word with such a livid anger that she almost steps back.

She starts arranging her clothes on her bed, grabbing towels and things she needs for her morning routine. "Ok _ay_ , guess I'm not getting any specifics on that." She sends him an inquisitive look. "How long are you planning on staying here, exactly?"

He pretends to count on his fingers, looking up at her clothes thoughtfully. "Dunno. Coupla' months, maybe?"

She scoffs and grabs her checkbook off the desk, one of the few things that didn't land on the ground in a heap. She starts scratching in numbers, thinking about how much a motel would cost for a few months' stay. Spot looks at her accusingly, shifting around trying to see what she was doing.

"Whata' ya doin'?" He asks, sounding slightly desperate.

She waves her checkbook at him, looking at him through hair rumpled with sleep. "Getting you out of my closet. Hey, what's your favorite place to stay around here?" She stops suddenly. "Where are you going, anyway?"

"Ya can't just send me off!" He says, waving his arms, panicked. She closes her checkbook slowly, and he seems to calm down. "And ta answer ya second question, I'm headin' up north."

She nods doubtfully. "And where is _up north_?" She asks.

"North."

She sighs exasperatedly, dropping her arms to her side. "Okay. I'll be back."

She grabs her things off the bed and showers quickly, dressing and putting her hair up in a towel to dry.

She walks out and hears Spot whistle.

"That's quite tha updo ya got there, princess." She ignores him and checks the time. Eight thirty-four.

"So, how did you get in, anyway?"

"Ya shouldn't leave ya window unlocked," he said, debunking her father's theory that his position as a popular newspaper owner would keep anyone from breaking-and-entering or worse, out of fear that the newspaper would close down and the town would lose its only reliable source of news.

She sits down, wringing her hair out in her towel, watching him as he studies her room, and, more specifically, her closet. She stiffens as he scoots around so he's facing the back, and then gets up to stop him as he tentatively slides open the small door to the secret room.

Inside there are magazines and old newpaper articles, a few water bottles and granola bars, and her pride and joy. And old, expensive typewriter, the kind that old newspaper reporters would have used a long time ago, the kind that makes the area around it smell like fresh ink and the sweet smell of thick, old-timey paper.

It was a small space between her closet and the guest bedroom. The door to it was covered by an oversized piece of furniture left to rot in the extra room, so you wouldn't know it was even there if you looked in.

"Well, well, well, what have we got 'ere?" Spot asks, smirking in her direction. When she tries to push him away, he scrambles to the farthest corner of her closet, a bit more dramatically than she thought needed, nearly burrowing in her longer, more formal dresses.

She doesn't dwell on it too long, though, instead closing the door more forcefully than necessary.

"If you tell _anyone_ -" she starts, backing away, letting Spot resume his former position smack-dab in the middle of her closet.

"Relax, toots, I ain't gonna tell anyone," he stays, leaning against the door. He sends her a knowing look, like ' _if you don't tell anyone about my closet-squatting habits, I won't tell anyone about your weird, secret, typewriter-fetish-writing-room_.'

She starts to brush out her hair furiously while glaring at him, then looks away and sets the brush down.

"So," Spot says, shifting awkwardly and trying to push the hanging clothes threatening to suffocate him out of the way, "this is tha life o' tha imf-infam-imfamous-infamous? Katherine Pulitzer?" He stumbles over the words a bit, and Katherine can't help but smirk at that.

"Plumber," she corrects.

"What?"

"I go by Plumber. It's my byline," At his confused look she adds, "the name I write under."

He nods, understanding. He'd probably had to go under fake names for a while, to stay under the radar.

"Oh."

"Yep."

The conversation ends there.

It's going to be a rough next couple of months.

* * *

The Pulitzer's new maid was one of the most interesting people Katherine had ever met.

Her father had hired her to help with paperwork and managing household chores when work got too busy, and she stayed in the small bedroom near the front door, anxiously peeking her head out whenever someone went downstairs after bedtime.

She wasn't interesting in the adventurous way, more in the personality department. She's like the cool aunt Katherine never had. She keeps tabs on anything that goes on around the house, and if she doesn't think Katherine's father would approve (like when Katherine lets the newsboys have some of the leftovers from the night before), she won't tell him.

She helps Katherine with her reporting jobs, sometimes letting bits of information slip about her father's meetings and who they were with, what they were about, and similar things.

She's also a very good cook.

Katherine thinks about this as she listens to her father's voice from downstairs through the vent. There are both perks and downsides to having a room right above his study. One of the perks is eavesdropping on his meetings, which is what she's doing right now.

The downside is listening to his computer whir and his frustrated mumbling as he pounds on the keyboard at two in the morning.

Spot is watching her curiously as she leans toward the vent from his sitting position on her closet floor. While her legs are crossed neatly, her hands folded on her lap, his are splayed out in front of him, his arms the only thing holding him up from falling onto his back.

"Whataya doin?" He asks, and his thick Brooklyn accent breaks through her thoughts. She gets up slowly, trying not to give away the fact that she was listening in on her father's very private and improtant meetings that were 'no worry or use to a young lady' in her father's words.

She gently places a towel over the vent to muffle her and Spot's conversation. He didn't know Spot was there, and she didn't need him thinking she was developing the talking-to-yourself habit.

"Listening to my father's meeting," she says simply, sliding on to her bed ungraciously. She lays on her back, staring at her white ceiling. She distantly wonders what the roof is like, and what it would feel like to sit on top of the large, two story house. Cold, probably.

"The meetings he 'cifically told ya _not_ ta listen to?" Spot asks, something similar to amusement or faux pride lining his voice. "I don' even have ta help ya, yous already a rule-breaker. 'M so proud." He says, wiping a fake tear from under his eye. She rolls her eyes.

"I'm not 'breaking the rules-" she starts, then stops abruptly when she sees the time. Ten fifteen. "I'll be right back," she manages through a voice choked with excitement, and runs down the stairs, only slowing down in front of her father's office, so not to make too much of a scene, and into the front room.

She opens the front door before they can even ring the doorbell and looks out at the boys trudging up the front path of her house. Wait, boy _s_. Boys, plural. There are two of them today, that's new.

She steps out onto the large porch and crosses her arms, watching the two figures get closer and pretending to be disappointed. One of the boys is smaller than the other, probably a kid, and the other, who is slightly taller, but no bigger in body mass, smiles when he sees her standing there, glaring down with her lips turned down in a frown.

"Racetrack. You're late." She says to the taller one, then bends down to shake hands with the little boy, who smiles shyly at her. He shakes her hand and she grins wide, because he's so _cute_.

Racetrack Higgins hands Katherine her paper and rolls his eyes fondly. She hasn't seen him for a while, and he definitely looks different. There are barely-noticeable dark circles under his eyes, and he doesn't hold himself with as much confidence and cockiness as usual. He looks tired.

"Yeah, yeah. Yap all ya want, old lady. It ain't gonna faze me no more," he says and looks at her expectantly. "Where's m' prize?" He asks, and she sighs.

"You'll get it once you introduce me to your friend," she says, and the little boy stands a little taller at her words. Race groans and flails his arms like a child.

"Fine, Katherine Pulitzer, this is Les Jacobs. Les Jacobs, this is Katherine Pulitzer. Happy now?" He gives her a look and she retreats into the kitchen to grab spare change and some leftover sticky buns wrapped in tinfoil from yesterday's breakfast. She hands the change to Race and the sticky buns to Les. Just as she's about to say her goodbyes, she realizes something.

"Wait, Race, did you say _Jacobs_?" She asks, glancing at the little boy again.

"Uh, yeah, did I stutter?"

Katherine thinks for a second. "Is your brother David?" Les nods enthusiastically.

"Ya didn't figure that out yet, Pulitzer? I thought you was a reporter, ain't theys supposed ta be smart?"

Katherine ignores him, turning to the boy. "Can you relay a message?"

Les nods again, apparently keen on not speaking.

"Can you tell Davey he owns me three cents? He skimped on change last time I bought a sandwich at the deli."

Race snorts.

Katherine turns to him. "You got a problem, Higgins?"

"Yeah, I do. You gets all ya fathers money, why'd'ya need three cents?"

"To prove a point," she says simply. "Also, where do you think your pay comes from, my father's pocket?"

"Ain't that where everything else comes from?" He grumbles. She ignores that comment.

"Hey, can we talk real quick?" She asks, glancing at the boy watching them closely. Race nods.

"Hey, kiddo, can yous go make sure we got th' rest of th' houses? Don't go too far, but I needs ta have a grown-up talk with good ol' Kathy here." Les nods enthusiastically and bolts down the stairs, nearly tripping and falling down, and Race cringes.

Katherine gently grabs his elbow. "Are you okay? How much have you been sleeping lately? I swear, Race, if you gave up your bed for another newsie, I'll hit you. That's Jack's job, and you know it-" She's stopped by Race's furious nodding and laughs at the look on his face.

"Speaking of Jack," she says, "where is he?" At the smirk that takes over Racetrack's face, she stops him. "No. Don't answer that. Did he drink the paint water again?" Race's smirk grows and she scoffs.

"Again? What kind was it this time?"

"Oil." He says, and Katherine makes a face.

"That must be bad."

"Yeah, he's layin' in bed right now, throwing up his guts. 'S why we's is here today, 'steada Cowboy. 'Course, you probably already figured that much out." Race snorts and turns to go. Katherine grabs his wrist tightly before he can starts the long trek down their yard, though.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" She asks, concern lining her face and brightening her eyes. Race nods, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Yeah-yeah, 'm good. Just been goin' through a rough patch. It'll get better," he sounds so broken, but he holds up the swagger walls and Katherine decides to let him off the hook.

"If you say you're good, I'll believe it. Just promise me that if you need to talk or a shoulder to cry on, you'll come to me, okay? I'll be here," she says, hugging him tightly. She would've loved for it ton last longer, but she hears her father's office door open and breaks away as the hushed voices fill the foyer.

She pats Race's arm reassuringly, then parts ways, heading back inside, missing the subtle wipe he makes at his eyes. She drops the paper on the table, only grabbing the comic section, the only page with half of the illustrations done by Jack Kelly, her usual newsboy.

She takes it upstairs, walking through the kitchen to avoid confrontation with her father or any of his business friends. When she's out their range of hearing, she pounds up the stairs and throws her door open, then slams it closed (gently) and flops on the ground in front of her closet. Spot looks down at her through eyes lidded with boredom.

"You was gone ages, I thought ya died," At her look he smirked a little and continued. "Too bad. I wrote a lovely eulogy in m' head. Wanna hear how it starts?" She shakes her head, but he continues anyway. "Katherine Plumber/Pulitzer was a girl. A real girl with boobs an' everythin'-" He tries to go on, but stops and holds his hands up in a defensive manner when she get too close for comfort, looking like she's going to smack him.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop! Jeez, don't get ya panties in a bunch or anythin'," he grumbles, backing into the wall of the closet. "Anyway, who was ya talkin' to? It got awfully borin' up here without ya yappin yer head off, ya know." She glares at him from her position back on the floor, but answers anyway.

"Racetrack Higgins. You know him?" She waits for a smartass quip or a snort and looks over, expecting to see his infuriating, shit-eating grin. Instead his face is dealthy white and his eyes are filled with guilt. "Do you know him?" She repeats.

"He was my boyfriend."

"Oh."

* * *

 **Alright heres the first chapter uhhh. There were a couple of parts I didn't like but i wanted to get it out so you'll just have to deal with it oof,,.,.,.,...,.,,**

 **(also the oil race and Katherine referred to was oil paint not actual oil, just a heads up friends)**

 **uhhh have a great day/night, where ever you are kiddos!**


	2. lined paper

**Uhhhhh I'm back! Hopefully i can upload chapters every other week, but bls don't kill me if i fuck up or anything,,,,,,,.,..,,.,. Also to the guest who asked, it'll have some of that spicy jatherine. Hopefully I can finish this and not just fuckin abandon it but I mean,,,,, uh just some notes Dave (along with being a newsbo** **y) works at Jacobi's, which is the equivalent of the diner Chloe works at, Darcy is a lawyer and makes a small cameo, we introduce Morris, and Katherine has a relationship with all the boys bc they've been delivering her papers for a long time and she knows all of them, including jack, who usually delivers her papers.**

 **(ohalsoDaveybreaks-and-entersjustaquickheadsupokbyyyee)**

* * *

Katherine slows as she approaches the small counter in the large, imposing courthouse, the smell of grease and yeasty bread welcoming her like a warm quilt. She leans against the counter, listening to the quiet, agitated murmurs of Davey from his place in the back room.

She could be considered a regular, sneaking away during her father's many business meetings and grabbing a quick meal or just some conversation.

But this time, she was here for a different reason. Sure, she always came for food, so many times that she didn't even have to order, it was usually just made, but she had a different order.

Spot had mentioned something about craving a certain sandwich from Jacobi's, and Katherine, happy to get out for a bit, had eagerly written down and gone to fetch his order.

She perks up when Davey walks out of the small back-room, wiping his hands on his apron and muttering under his breath about bread and tomatoes.

"David Jacobs, were you aware that last time I ate here, you didn't pay me my full amount of change?"

The boy in question laughs quietly and rubs his eyes in fake exhaustion. He shrugs apologetically and starts preparing a salad.

"Sorry, Kath. The usual?"

"Actually, Davey, I'm gonna try something different today. Can I get a," she glances down at the small note in her hand, skimming over the few reminders of things she needed to do today, and reads off the sandwich Spot requested, "pastrami on rye?"

Dabids eybrows raise at her request, but he assembles the sandwich anyway. "That's usually Jack and the boys' usual orders. How much tiemhave you been spending with them recently? Oh my god-" he stops, pretending to be frantic, glancing up at her with fear in his eyes, "are they rubbing off on you? Talk, I need to know if you have an accent."

When she doesn't say anything, he starts shaking her shoulders, panicked. "Speak, Katherine, speak!" She shrugs him off and laughs heartily.

"As if I would spend my free time with them. Seeing them for five minutes a day is enough for me, thank you very much."

Davey hands her sandwich over and starts ringing her up. She hands him a random amount of money and stands up straighter, running the sore spot on her side from leaning against the counter.

The door at the far end of the courthouse opens, and countless lawyers and businessmen spill out. She waves at Darcy as he trudges out, looking tired. The men stride confidently over to the benches spread around, intending to spend their short lunch break by themselves, savoring their tiny amount of freedom from the stuffy rooms they stay cooped up in. At least, that what Katherine would do. She wasn't sure she could spend all day in those tiny offices like that, with only a few windows letting in minimal amounts of daylight.

Just the thought makes her claustrophobic. She may stay in her house all day, but at least she has a fire escape to climb out onto to get fresh air, the boys, and now Spot, to talk to. It could be worse.

She's snapped out of her horrific daydream when the cash register dings and Dave hands her the change, plus three extra cents. "Is that all, because I have to get back to stocking shelves," he says, wiping his hands on his apron again and backing towards the door. Katherine stops him.

"Actually, I have one little favor. Get comfortable and write this down, it might take a while."

* * *

Davey looks at the house looming in front of him, sighing and hiding his face in his hands. His head shoots up when Katherine knocks on his window and he unlocks the door. She climbs in, wrinkling her nose at the water bottles littering the floor and the Pop-Tart wrappers glittering metallic in the dim sunlight.

"Davey, this thing is a _pigsty_. Do you even clean it?" Davey waves his hand in a dismissing motion, taking a swig from of the mentioned water bottles. He grimaces when he notices the backwash swirling around the bottom. Definitely _not_ his water, he realizes all too late.

"You can thank Les for all that. He likes to shove all the food in his mouth at once on the way to Newsie Square, thinks it's cute or cool or somethin', all because Jack saw him do it once, and just about laughed his ass off."

Katherine doesn't pay any mind to him, gazing at the house they were parked in front of.

"Okay, here's the plan. You go in, get the box, and make it _fast_. Father's business meeting ends in thirty minutes, and if I'm late, I'll never leave that house again."

Davey nods and dutifully climbs out of the car. The door slams shut behind him and he glaances one more time at Katherine in the car. She gives a thumbs up and an enthusiastic grin, then locks the doors.

He glares at her.

Starting up the sidewalk, he glances at the house warily. There are fallen leaves, a yard that looks like it hasn't been tended to in a _long_ time, because there are beer cans and cigarette buds and unmowed grass.

He makes it to the front porch and looks in the screen door. Despite it being the beginning of winter, with hints of snow along the way, the front door is wide open and the inside is worse than the outside.

It's a small house, shabby, worn furniture, and there's trash everywhere. Davey doesn't want to know what Katherine needs in this house, and why _he_ has to retrieve it, but he might as well get it over with.

He slowly slinks in the house, making sure the door doesn't slam behind him. He looks around at the small living room he's in and his breath hitches, stops completely, his lungs apparently don't work anymore, that's fun, but he has a good reason for that.

There is a _man sleeping on the couch._

Davey runs down the hall as silently and as fast as he can, wasting no time in swerving in the first room he can. He slowly closes the door behind him, wincing as it clicks in to place.

He slides down and flops on the floor, resting his chin in his hands, heart beating wildly. Then he realizes, he's in a bedroom.

He sees a closet with the door slightly ajar and crawls on his hands and knees over to it. He opens it and it creaks, making him wince.

Inside there are boxes sickened on to of each other, labeled with illegible things, but he can occasionally make out words like 'race', 'spot', and 'kitchen'. He grabs a random one, with what he thinks is labeled with 'spot and-'. He can't read the last words, but the box is heavy, and he wants to get out of there as quickly as fast as he can before that guy wakes up and-

And he hears a creak.

Footsteps shuffling down the hallway.

A door opening.

The soft patter of footsteps in the room beside him.

David wastes no time in picking up the box and hightailing it out of there. He opens the door quickly, running down the hallway, praying nothing fell out of the over-filled box, into the living room.

He faintly hears a toilet flush.

He hears a door open.

He hurries out the front door and down the walk, kicking a beer can out of the way. He prays the door doesn't make a loud noise, but of course, he hears the tell-tale _slap_ of the screen door against the frame, and then the creak of it opening again.

He looks behind him and sees a handsome man, clean-shaved, with dark hair, a tie hanging loose around his neck, and-is that a _bowler hat_? hanging off his head.

"Hey!" He calls, leaning against the door frame, "whataya doin'? Is that my stuff?"

Davey ignores him, nearly running to the car. He hears the car doors click, telling him the doors are unlocked. He shoves the box in the back and climbs in the front seat.

He ignores Katherine's confused looks and questions, instead putting the car in gear and backing out. He heads for the restaurant, because Katherine's car is still there, and they dont talk for the rest of the ride.

* * *

Katherine checks her clock for the third time in five minutes. 10:16.

Her father should be sleeping by now, if tonight went the same way they always do.

She peaks her head out the door and sees that all the lights in the hallway are off, besides the little bit of light pouring out her room. She whispers a quick "be right back" to Spot, then tiptoes out into the hall.

Halfway down the stairs, Hannah peeks her head around the corner and shines a tiny flashlight on her. Katherine stops and turns, smiling sheepishly at her. Hannah nods understandingly and goes back to her room, turning the flashlight off, and Katherine breathes a sigh of relief.

She tiptoes down the rest of the stairs and out the door. She curls her toes against the freezing pavement and runs to the car, opening the door quietly and grabbing the heavy, bulky box in the back.

She creeps up the stairs into the house again, thanking whoever was in the sky that her father didn't hear her.

"Wha's that?" Spot asks, craning his head to see what was in the bag. She drops it on the floor with an unceremonious thump.

"Ta-daa! I got you some stuff from your house. Now you don't have to spend your free time looking at my clothes and trying to type on my typewriter. You're welcome."

Instead of being grateful, Spot glances up at her. He was no longer soaked, and his face was clean, but there's still a faint scent of water and tobacco surrounding him.

"You _what_? Ya went inta m' _house_?"

Katherine blinks, confused. She knew he probably wouldn't have been outright _ecstatic_ , but she assumed there would be a little more enthusiasm to it. "Uh, yeah. There was a weird guy at the door, but he didn't say anything, I don't think."

"Delancy." Spot spits.

"You know him?"

He snorts. "Know him? I hate the guy. Hate that he's livin' in m' house. That were me an' Race's house. We was gonna sell it fer a nice little one on the opposite side o' town."

As fast as the grim moodlet is brought on, it disappears. Spot opens the box and looks inside. "Hey, ya even got th' right box! This was me an' Race's stuff, 'fore I left."

Katherine sits on her bed, fiddling with the hem of her loose t-shirt. "Oh, I didn't get the box. Davey did."

Spot lets out an obvious breath of relief. "O' thank god. I was worried there for a sec."

"Why? He didn't seem too bad."

Spot laughs a breathless, humorless laugh, not looking up from his box of trinkets and memorabilia. "He's a womanizer. And a pretty bad one, at that. Don't stop 'till he gets what he wants. Don't think I gotta go inta' much detail."

Katherine nods. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Thankfully, Spot finds something funny and waves Katherine over. "C'mere, ya gotta see this, I forgot it existed..."

They spend the next hour like that, laughing over old shirts and similar things, notebooks filled with notes and sketches of Race and Spot, with their proportions so out of wack only a professional (read: Jack) could have drawn them.

Sometime around then, Katherine remembered the sandwich and mentioned it to Spot, who refused to take it.

He let her eat it.

* * *

 **Jkghdfgkfkjg guys im sorry this chapter is so short, I didn't know where it was going and couldn't find a good spot to end it uuggghh.,,, uh yeah, Davey broke into house and im so proud of my him for it. I actually dont have a lot to say surprise surprise, but i watched the tuck everlasting bootleg earlier and was sobbing like a baby if that news. (Its not, i cry abt everything) uhhh, follow, favorite, and review, lemme know what you think, they genuinely make me (almost) sob every time i get a review!**

 **have a great day/night, wherever you are!**


	3. torn edges

**im back! Uhh, im super excited for this chapter actually, bc Jack finally makes an entrance, after two chaps!**

 **Notes for this chapter? Uhh the first part is in Davey's pov, and they speak some Yiddish, which i will translate at the end, bls don't hate me if I get some wrong though! I'm a silly American and Yiddish isn't my mother tongue! Also Davey is applying for college! be proud of this smart boyo and his big dreams! I don't know what exactly his major will be, but if you have any ideas,, lemme know! I would love if it's something for like,,, maybe a big business job, like he would be going for a leading job, bc you _know_ this boy would've been in FBLA (for those of you who don't know what that is, it stands for Future Business Leaders of America, and I think you can apply for it when you start sixth grade? Idk I never did it,, but), or maybe like a lawyer or smthg? **

**Uh also heck yeah Katherine and Jackie boy totally "platonically" flirt and tease each other what else did you expect?**

 **(um also excuse the super long AN I got kinda carried away oops)**

* * *

Davey growls in frustration under his breath, both at the packet of paper in front of him, and also at the absolute chaos around him. Sarah had thought it would be a good idea to teach Les some housecleaning, to 'prepare him for the future', as she put it, but it only ended in disaster. (As Davey knew it would.)

Les had left the vacuum cleaner running, and it ended up sucking up the fringe of his mother's, favorite, most expensive rug, and now Les, Sarah, and she were all screaming different things to each other, trying to pull out the expensive fabric.

While he had retreated to his room nearly an hour ago, Davey can still hear the loud arguing from outside his room loud and clear. Eventually he slams down his pencil and storms out into the hall.

In one sweep, he turns off the vacuum, rips out the rug, and pushes them both into the small closet that holds the cleaning supplies.

" _Farmakhn es_! All of you! Les, it isn't that hard to vacuum a hallway. Sarah, he's nine, cut him a slack, he's not even in middle school yet. Ma, your rug is fine, the vacuum didn't ruin it. Now please, I'm trying to fill out my applications, but I can't because you all are _so loud_!"

He grabs his bag from his room and walks out the front door, and at the nip of the cold, remembers he forgot a coat and immediately regrets it. He doesn't go back, though.

He never snaps like that. Ever.

He guesses the pressure of getting into a good college and making money when he gets there and finding an apartment and- he stops at that, because all of it combined will give him a stroke and that's the last thing he needs right now. He walks on, not paying attention to where he's going, just staring at the sidewalk lost in thought, until he stops outside the cheap apartment buildings that hold fifty percent of the newsboys.

He hefts his bag, trying to remember if he left any clothes in it from last time he did the laundry, then looks back at the building. Bag, building, bag, building.

He really doesn't need to face his families wrath right now, not when he's stressed enough as is.

Bag. Building.

He'll call them later.

Bag.

He doesn't bother knocking on the door, just walks in and heads to apartment nine, the one most of the newsies spend their time in.

Building.

When he opens the door, he finds almost a dozen boys lounging around on the couches, playing cards, rummaging through cabinets for food. Elmer is the first to notice him.

"Ey, Davey! C'mere, I need ya to prove to Jojo I didn't take any o' his cards. He thinks 'm lyin' again." Davey gratefully walks over to the small coffee table, setting his things in a pile by the door.

"You, a liar? Elmer, I've never heard of anything so ridiculous," Davey says sarcastically.

He's glad he chose building, even when he wakes up and goes to work with a nasty hangover and little sleep under his belt.

* * *

Katherine wakes up to sunlight shining through her windows and the sound of shuffling paper from her closet. She pushes back the covers and springs out of bed, afraid Spot had gotten into her secret closet again.

When she rips open the curtain, she's met with the view of Spot, dressed in about twenty shirts, wearing three newsie caps, and cutting things out from different magazines and newspaper articles she had stashed in her space behind him.

"Ey! Whatta' ya doin'? 'M workin' here, get out!" If it weren't so early and Katherine wasn't dreading the errands and reprimands coming from her father in a few hours, she would have argued and crawled behind him, but she was so exhausted, she closed door and walked to the bathroom.

* * *

After her shower and breakfast with her father (which did not go terribly, thankfully), she finds herself on the floor of her room trying to convince Spot to tell her what he was hiding under his box of trinkets.

"Come _on_ , Spot. Is it what you were working on this morning? The thing you yelled at me about?" When Spot only shrugs, Katherine flops on her back, letting out a whoosh of air as she thumps against the ground. She checks the small clock on her wall, sighing when she sees it's only eleven fifteen.

"Whassa' matter, girlie? Gettin' discouraged already?"

Katherine glares at the ceiling and ignores him. She looks at the swirls and twists of the paint, something far too intricate for her simple layout of the room, something her father decided, obviously. It was the same way with the wall color, too. If she were allowed to choose her room decoration choices, she would _not_ have chosen light pink. She would have decided on a simple, practical color, like light grey or white. Maybe when she moves out...

But she's getting ahead of herself.

She doesn't move when she hears her father call for her, not until he yells again, the tone of his voice warning her not to defy him. She reluctantly hoists herself up and slips on shoes, then heads downstairs to see what her father needs.

Turns out he just wanted her to pick up some bread and milk before the predicted snowstorm coming later this week. As she grabs some cash (extra, because she planned on stopping to see Davey again), and slips on a coat, she tries to block out her father bickering noisily about the weather and politics with Hannah. It wasn't exactly _bickering_ , per say, more Hannah agreeing and (rarely) disagreeing about political stances with him.

* * *

Downown is busy today, because along with mothers fretting about heat and food for the incoming storm (with it's accumulation predictions growing as every hour passes), the Bald Slope Poet and Author Winter Festival preparations are coming along and clogging up traffic with their large truck-fulls of cider and wooden stands, as the event is later that week.

When she finally makes it to the store and out of the parking lot, she heads to Jacobi's, intending to grab another sandwich for Spot and maybe talk a few minutes, because she's lonely and knows full well that Davey can get trapped in his own mind.

What she finds when she gets there, though, is something she did _not_ expect to see. Davey is sitting hunched over at one of the tables, cradling a coffee in his hands and repeatedly bumping his head onto the cheap wooden surface of the table.

Katherine walks over to him and sits at the chair opposite to his. He doesn't look up, though he emits a noise between a grump and a whine let her know he recognizes she sitting there.

She gently lays a hand in his shoulder and tries to joke. "You know, I thought baristas were supposed to be _behind_ the counter, not sitting at one of the tables with a coffee and," she squints at the little white tablet by his hand, "migraine medicine? Davey, I don't think it's safe to take those with coffee."

He finally looks up and she notices his eyes are bloodshot and he has bags under them. "I got in a fight with my family last night, then stayed up late and drank with the boys. I have to finish my applications, but of course I have to be irresponsible, _again_. I haven't talked to my parents since I stormed out, as icing on the cake."

Katherine snorts. "David Jacobs, you are the least irresponsible person I know. You are going to _college_ , for Christ's sake! Sure, you stay up late _one night_ with your friends and drink, but every other night, you're up late studying or writing the same thing over and over and _over_. Drinking one night isn't _that_ bad," she stops and thinks for a second, "unless that's against your religion. Is that against your religion?"

Davey shrugs noncommittally. "We can drink as long as we drink responsibly, is what I've always been taught. I did not drink responsibly last night."

Katherine winces. "So I take it you are _not_ a good Jewish boy?"

Davey grins ruefully. "No, I am not a good Jewish boy."

Katherine pats his shoulder and laughs a little. "Still think you're up for making me a sandwich?"

"Yeah, Kath, gimme a sec," he picks up the small pill and downs it with the rest of his coffee, then stands and stretches, wincing as his joints pop.

"Hey, do you know where Jack is? He wasn't at the apartment last night." Davey asks as he takes his place behind the counter.

"Not a clue, Davey."

* * *

"Spot you need to eat this quick, I think Father smelled it."

Spot wrinkles his nose at both the sandwich and her words. "What does he do, sniff ya' when ya' come home?"

"No, but Jacobi's doesn't have to most subtle smell to it, and I came home later, too. He suspects something's up, and if he starts asking questions I don't have the answer to, I don't know what I'll do."

"Tell 'im th' truth, duh."

Katherine tosses the greasy bag at him and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, okay. I'll just tell him there's a man in my closet that I stole things for, and I have a secret stash that is every reporter's dream come true. That'll go over _real_ well."

Spot leans against the back 'wall' of her closet. "Nah, yous gotta be more articulate 'bout it," he tosses the bag back to Katherine, "here, you have it, yous lighter than a twig."

Katherine takes the bag and gratefully eats the sandwich. Spot watches her, not judging, just curious.

Suddenly Katherine jumps up and drops the bag, kicking it haphazardly under her bed. She runs out the door and down the stairs, skidding on the slick hardwood and running past her father's study.

She slides to a stop in front of the front door and opens it, relived to see a familiar face instead of a random newsie.

"Jack Kelly. It's about time."

Jack smiles and walks up the stairs, pulling out the paper and handing it over. As he gets closer, she notices the way his hair is sticking out in all different directions under his hat and his eyes have slight bags under them.

"How was your meeting with your lady friend last night?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout." But his shit-eating grin gives it away.

"Yeah okay, Mr. I-Flirt-With-Anyone-Who-Isn't-Old. We both know where you spent yesterday and last night." She's now out on the porch, no longer standing in her doorway like she did yesterday.

Jack steps closer. "Oh really? Where'd ya' get that idea?"

She looks up at him and inches a little closer. This was a game they played often, teasing each other until one had to leave and coming back the next day for more. "Davey didn't see you at the apartment last night, and I conveniently missed you delivering yesterday. I put two and two together, it wasn't hard."

This was a game she was good at.

They're noses are nearly touching now. They probably would be if Katherine weren't shorter than Jack by two inches. "What if I told ya-" he's cut off by Katherine's father's voice.

"Katherine Ethel Pulitzer, I would like for you to come inside. Immediately."

Jack's face flushes for possibly the first time ever, as far as Katherine is concerned, and he removes his hand from her arm. She hadn't even realized it was there.

Katherine steps back in the house, casting a quick glance at Jack as he leaves. Finally she turns and walks into the kitchen after her father.

He faces her and folds his hands behind his back. "I don't like that boy," he says finally, and Katherine rolls her eyes. "I'm serious, Katherine. He has a record."

Katherine scoffs. That could mean anything. It could mean he won a Grammy or he had a criminal past. "What _kind_ of record, father?"

Pulitzer waves her off. "That doesn't matter, Katherine. I just don't like you in his company, is all. especially when you get so-so _intimate_ right on the front porch. What would the neighbors think?"

Katherine huffs and turns on heel, storming up the stairs and into her room. She hears her father call after her but pays no mind to him. She slams the dooor and slumps on the ground in front of it.

She crawl/slides on her stomach over to the closet and opens it. Spot looks down at her laying face down on the floor.

"Long day?" Spot asks.

Katherine only groans.

* * *

 **GJKFADGJKD its done! Hopefully jack makes more of an appearance next chapter, but he couldn't this time bc this hellsite was down like all day yesterday so I couldn't write shit.**

 **'farmakhn es!' roughly translates to 'shut it!' in English, for anyone wondering, and i did look up if Jewsish folk could drink. Basically what it told me was that they could as long as thay did it in tolerance, which Davey did not do. If i got any of that wrong, though, please let me know what to fix and i will fix it!**

 **uhh, i have a sort-of schedule, which is basically every-other-week i will upload a chapter, which will hopefully make me stay on track with the story.,.,..,.,,,,,**

 **(also excuse any grammar issues or spelling errors i wrote most of this in one sitting and am tired as fuckk)**

 **uhh thats about all have a great day/night everyone!**


	4. doodles in the margin

**alrighty I'm gonna get right to it: this chaper is where it gets real! the fan is on full blast and the shit is hurtling toward it, get ready folks. The last few were to introduce the town and characters, but now the real plot kicks in get excited!**

 **alright key chapter notes: Kath and Davey go to the fair mentioned last chapter, kath gets suspicious, and we meet the mysterious guy Davey stole from (coughmorriscough).**

 **I actually don't have too much to say right now, so enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Davey is halfway through yet another application when his phone rings.

He sighs and scrubs his hands down his face, praying it isn't one of the boys. While he loves them like brothers, he doesn't want to spend the time telling them he's leaving them for law school in a few months. He already made up with his family, he really doesn't want another problem to deal with. He already has too many to wrap his mind around.

He picks up the phone and answers it, if only to stop the incessant chirping. It's Katherine.

"David."

"Katherine," he responds with as much intensity she called him with.

"I need to get out, so I'm sneaking to the book slash poetry fair tonight. Can you come?" She sounds desperate, and Davey can relate too well, he realizes with a pang.

He glances both longingly and resentfully at his papers. "Fine," he finally relents, "on one condition."

"Anything."

"We need to actually have _fun_. I'm not following you around all night like usual."

He practically _hear_ Katherine jumping and leaping with joy. "Of course, Davey. I just need to get out. I'll see you around eight at the stage, okay?"

Davey smiles ruefully at Katherine's excitement. "Okay Katherine. Goodbye." But she's already hung up.

Sighing again, he glares back at the papers. "I'm not finishing you right now."

* * *

Katherine checks her reflection one more time in the mirror. Spot scoffs from the closet.

"How many times 're you gonna do that? Y' look fine, jus' go already."

Katherine rolls her eyes and grabs her phone. Thankfully, her father is in an important buisiness call and wouldn't be getting to bed until early morning, and would be too tired to even bother to poke his head in, so she was safe from getting caught. The chances of Hannah telling her father were slim, so she was mostly safe, she guesses.

She adjusts her scarf and straightens turning toward the closet. "You promise not to terrorize Hannah while I'm gone?" The past few night she had awaken to Hannah screaming and running around in the kitchen with pots and pans, chasing Spot. They were not pleasant nights.

"Yeah, yeah. Jus' go toots! Go get laid or somethin', and come back an' tell me all 'bout it."

Katherine makes an indignant sound, then creeps out her room and down the stairs. Hannah usually retires to her room to watch old western movies showing on tv around seven, so she didn't see her on the way to the door.

She finally makes it out the door and to the car, sitting still in the driver's seat and breathing into her hands, wishing she had brought gloves.

She watches the snow fall gently as she drives to the fairgrounds. It was mostly a bunch of old, boring people that came to hear the poetry, but a few years ago they added live performances by local bands and beer to attract college kids coming for the ski slopes.

She eventually finds a place to park and heads over to the stage, surprised to find Davey there with a solo cup of something. He's talking to few newsboys Katherine recognizes, which makes her wonder if Jack is here.

"Katherine, I didn't think you would come, I was worried you got caught."

Katherine shrugs and takes his cup, sniffs, then sips some. "I got a little," she stops tries to think of how to describe her and Spot's recent "caught up."

She and Spot had gotten into a fifteen minute argument about what she should wear until she pulled out a black skirt, tights, and a soft sweater.

She now regrets that decision because the skirt was shorter than she anticipated and the tights don't do much to keep the cold out. She's thankful that she wore a scarf, though, because the chill in the air is biting and she can't feel her fingers that well anymore, so she stuffs them in her pockets.

Davey makes an indignant sound and makes a grab for his cup, which Katherine holds just out of his reach. As she backs up, she bumps into someone who reaches out an arm to steady her, then slings it around her shoulders.

He smells like beer and stumbles a little and it takes Katherine a moment but she realizes after a moment that it's Jack.

"Heeeyy, Kath. Whatcha doin' 'ere, huh?" He's definitely drunk.

She gently removes his arm from her shoulder and gently pats it when it's back at his side.

Just as she's about to respond, Elmer runs up with a solo cup of liquid sloshing around and Race and Cutchie following close behind. Katherine smells it before she sees it, and recognizes it as the smell emitting from Jack, which is the scent of cheap beer.

Jack is apparently sober enough to realize that Elmer is indeed underage and he wouldn't be able to buy alcohol on his own, so he turns to the boys surrounding them.

"Alright, who gave 'im beer?" All eyes turn to Racetrack.

"Racer, what would you said if th' bulls caught 'im with alcohol? What would y' told 'em, that you gave beer to a minor?"

Race meets Jack's eyes with a mischievous glint. "I woulda told 'me you gave it to 'im."

Jack lightly bats the back of Race's head. "Ya asshole, they woulda locked me up 'gain, how would y' like that, hm?"

Katherine is immediately interested now. Maybe her father was right when he said Jack 'had a record'.

She can't feel her hands.

It's time to go home.

* * *

The next day, Jack is laying in bed groaning and whining about his hangover. He's snapped at Race and Albert for being too loud while playing Call of Duty three times now because the walls in his apartment are _so thin_ , and he has yet to eat or drink despite the fact that it's twelve o'clock in the afternoon.

Suddenly his bedroom door bangs open and his room is flooded with daylight from the windows in the living room. The sounds of gunfire and arguing between the boys fills his ears and he flinches under his blankets and stuffs his pillow on his head.

He listens to footsteps walk over to his window beside his bed and the curtains slide open.

"Wakey, wakey, Jack-it's-been-eleven-hours-this-is-getting-ridiculous-you-need-to-get-the-heck-up-and-bakey," Davey's singsong voice fills the room and Jack groans loudly into his mattress.

Davey sighs and pulls the covers back on the queen sized bed, revealing Jack, wearing the same shirt from last night and sweatpants he had thrown on at some ungodly hour when he got home.

"Davey go away, 'm dead. Leave me 'lone."

Davey sets a mug of coffee on the stand beside Jack's bed and turns to look at the easel behind him.

"Hey, this looks kinda like Katherine doesn't it-" Dave is cut off as Jack jumps up from his bed impossibly fast and pushes him away long enough to flip the page in his sketchbook to a doodle of the sun against the mountains of Bald Slope.

As soon as Davey is far enough away from he easel, Jack flops down onto the bed again and reaches blindly for the coffee. When he doesn't reach it immediately he whines and lets his arm fall on his stomach with a hollow thump.

Davey smirks at Jack's antics and opens the other curtain, to Jack's displeasure.

"C'mon Jackie-boy, lets go. It's time to get up and at 'em! Seize the day, ya know?"

Jack whines again.

* * *

Two hours later, Jack is showered and awake, and only has a tiny headache thanks to the pills he found in the back of the medicine cabinet.

As he sips his coffee he wonders about how much of an ass he made himself last night in front of Katherine. Speaking of Katherine, he tries to remember her outfit, because he'd be damned if she didn't look good in that skirt...

He shakes himself out of his daydream when the gunshots coming from the tv sound and the boys scream in anger. Jack walks over to the couch and forces his way in between the boys.

"'Ey! Scootch over, will ya? I need ta get in here and show ya how it's done. Albert, hand me th' controller, it's time t' kick ass."

* * *

The day after the fair, Katherine is already sick and tired of staying home. She wasn't at the house when the paper was delivered, so she didn't get much social interaction for the day, besides her and Spot's usual stupid bickering and banter.

"I'm going out," she says suddenly as the sun is going down.

"Again?" Spot asks then gets an excited gleam in his eye and sends her a knowing look. "Didja meet someone at the fair? Oh you did, didn'tcha? Tell me all about it! Everything, what's he look like, what's his name, howdja meet?"

Katherine shakes her head and walks over to her closet to grab and outfit to wear. She wants something that says she means business, but also something that isn't too serious.

"No, Spot. I didn't meet anyone, I just need to get out."

The truth is that she need to find out more about Jack's criminal past, and she knows just the place to go.

She gets ready in a quick amount of time, then heads out the door and sneaks downstairs. Hannah and her father are sleeping now, so she has no trouble sneaking out to the bar she plans on going to.

She wants to get information on both Jack and Spot, so she can help Spot move out and talk to Jack about his past.

As soon as she enters the small bar, she's hit with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. She'll need to shower before she goes to bed.

She ignores the stares from some of the older, creepy men and sits on one of the stools near the end where the bar is emptier, and orders a beer. Katherine isn't a alcohol elitist, whatever she thinks is good, she'll drink.

She's dismayed to find that she doesn't recognize anyone. That makes sense, she guesses, because it's so late.

Eventually someone slides into the empty seat next to her and catches her attention.

He's good-looking, she supposes. Whereas Jack is rough and entrancing in a troublemaker kind of way, the guy sitting next to her has a clean, good-boy look to him, but still pulls her in with a mysterious aspect that she wants to know more about.

"I swear I'm not trying to hook up, but I'm waiting for my brother and noticed you looked lonely. What's a pretty girl like you doin' here alone, hm?"

Katherine looks up from her drink and smiles a little, then shifts on her stool so she's facing him a bit better.

"I'm just," she thinks of what to tell him, because her inner sensible self is telling her not to let him know what she's up to, "waiting for someone."

The man nods and hums a little. "Anyone in particular?"

"Not really."

The guy shifts in his seat and scooches closer. "Then how about I wait with you?"

Katherine shrugs and takes a sip of her drink. "I guess I'm waiting for some _thing_. I just don't know what, yet."

"Want me to keep an ear out for you?"

She looks over and smiles wider. "You don't even know me."

"I'd like to."

 _Woah_. Katherine is taken aback by his intensity and suddenly notices his eyes. They have a sly look to them, a gleam that Katherine doesn't recognize.

Oh, to hell with her sensible side. "I'm trying to figure out something about a guy named Jack Kelly. Know him?"

The man seems to think a bit, then shrugs apologetically. "Sorry, don't remember a guy named Jack Kelly. But I got some friends over at the DA's office, I'll keep a close eye an' see if I know anything. Are you sure you're not here alone, you don't seem like the kinda girl to be at a place like this without someone."

Katherine's spirits immediatly soar and she places her hand on his arm gratefully. "Thank you so much! You don't have to do that, you know. And yes, I'm sure I'm here alone."

The man shrugs and smiles a little. He has a charming smile, straight and clean, almost fake looking. Compared to Jack's lopsided, boyish, smile, it's like a cat and a dog. Katherine wonders why she's thinking of Jack's smile when she's talking to this guy.

"Speaking of being here with someone, my brother's here. See ya 'round," he looks at her as if searching for her name, and she gives it, "Katherine. I'll keep and ear out for you."

With that he walks away. She subconsciously remembers seeing him somewhere and realizes she never got his name.

"Wait! I never caught your name."

He looks over his shoulder. She barely hears him over the noise of the bar, but she reads his mouth. "Morris."

* * *

 **Ugggghhhhhh I kind of hate this chapter. I hit a really bad block for it, so I'm sorry if it's kinda clunky or anything bc i quit with this chapter ughhhghg.**

 **uhh also about the ages for this: Jack is 24, Kath is 22-23, Davey's 21-22, race is 21, elmer is 18-19, and Crutchie is 20, just to let y'all know.**

 **oh! Next week I may be able to upload a chap, but I won't be able to for two weeks after that!**

 **to Fanzforlife, no, this will not be a slow burn,, though it may take a few chapters for things to rlly get heated up**

 **thats pretty much it for this week! Have a great day/night everyone!**


	5. paper shredder

**alright I'm back. uuuhhhh I don't know what to do with this chapter but let's hope something gets done bc I forgot a whole lot of stuff during my long ass impromptu hiatus but maybe I can grind something out. Uhhhhh anyone see the tonys last Sunday? mean girls and Ethan slater were cheated but I'm happy the bands visit won, and if anyone has any stories or thoughts about it, feel free to let me know in the reviews, I love hearing everyone's thoughts!**

* * *

When Katherine shows up to Jacobi's in the early morning, she knows immediately that something is wrong. Davey is sitting at one of ther cafe tables with his head in his hands, staring at a glossy piece of paper, chewing at his bottom lip the way he does when he's stressed or nervous.

"Get back to work, you hooligan," she says, making Davey jump and hastily fold up the booklet and shove it into the bag sitting beside him.

"What'll it be today, Kath?" He asks tiredly, moving behind the counter and pulling on plastic sanitary gloves, completely glossing over the scene that had just unfolded before them.

Katherine pretends to think for a moment before answering. "A nice slice of 'what's up with Davey?'."

He ignores her and starts to make her usual sandwich. "You still want pastrami on rye?"

"No onions, please." The past few weeks Spot had been insisting she eat his food, and while she argued, eventually relented and ate. During that time, she came to the realization that she had a hatred for onions. Nothing important, but at least it was something different than her usual boring life.

She doesn't let David's lack of interaction deter her from the reasons she's here. "What's up with the college pamphlet?"

He looks up, panic stricken. "Don't tell the boys," he asks, desperation making his voice an octave higher than usual.

Katherine agrees and takes her sandwich before walking back to the table and waving Davey over.

"Sit."

He reluctantly complies and opens his before Katherine shushes him.

"Sh-"

"But-"

"No-"

"Ah-"

"Shut up, Jacobs." She tells him, unwrapping her sandwich and taking a bite. "So," she says conversationally, "where are you applying?"

"I was thinking Columbia University, but University of Virginia looks good too, of course, it's more expensive out-of-state, so I'd have to pay a couple thousand more just for tuition, but-" Katherine cuts him off.

"What are you majoring in?"

He bits his lip again and cringes, as though the thought of his own major makes him sick. "Lawyering,"

Katherine slaps both her palms on the table and stands up, startling Davey and a few shoppers passing by. "Davey, that's amazing! I have friends in the D.A, they can give you some tips! Oh this is so great, David! How-" it's Davey's turn to cut her off, now.

"No, Katherine, it's not! What do you think my clients are going to say when they realize I'm Jewish? They'll probably think I'm cheating them of money if my price is bigger than they expected! It'll be a disaster 'cause what if I miss a hearing or meeting with them because I have to go to temple, or - or-" this time he cuts himself off, apparently lost in thought, and Katherine slowly sits down and lays a hand gently on his arm.

"Hey," she says, "I may not be Jewish, but if your clients are using your religion against you, or as a reason to deny you their case, or even if they're just being disrespectful, then they're anti-semitic assholes, and you shouldn't listen to them, okay?"

Davey nods, quick to change the subject, but feels reassured nonetheless.

"So, how's everything in Katherine-land?" He asks, ripping a chunk of bread off her sandwich and popping it into his mouth.

She sighs and drops her head on the table dramatically.

"That bad, huh?"

She looks up with her chin resting on the table, her sandwich forgotten in front of her. "I went to a bar the other night."

"Oh?" Davey's eyebrows raise as he steals her sandwich and eats more.

"Yeah. I met someone."

Davey takes another bite and waves his hand not occupied by a sandwich in a _go on_ gesture.

"I think his name is Morris, but I don't really know." Davey tried to keep his face passive as she says this.

"Why did you even _go_ to a bar?"

Katherine shakes her head and sits up a little straighter. "Because Sp- er, my dad, was driving me crazy. I just needed to get out. So I'd did," she checks her watch, curses, and slaps a twenty dollar bill on the table. It always amazes Davey how Katherine had so much money she could afford to spend seventeen dollars more on a sandwich without blinking an eye. "Keep the change. I have to go take my dad to his stupid writing thing in an hour. I'll see you later."

With that, she balls up her trash and walks out, hurrying along out the door and down the street. Davey watches her go before standing up and heading to the back room to check stock, throwing out the last few bites of sandwich on his way back.

* * *

"Yes, Jack, she said Morris. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Hey, don't yell at me, 'm just tryin' t' find out why she would even be going t' a place like that."

"She told me it was becuse of her dad, but she seemed flustered when she did. After that, she hurried up and left, saying something about taking her dad to a 'writing thing'," Davey says, checking the label on a bulk-size jar of mayonnaise. "Why don't you just talk to her, why make me do all your spying for you?"

"'Cause I think she's been avoidin' me, Dave."

Davey sighs and throws a molding loaf of bread in the jumbo trashcan of the storeroom. "Okay, well, I'll try, Jackie, but I can't promise too much because she isn't exactly the most open about her personal life, but if you _really_ think this Morris guy is a problem, I'll try to find out more for you."

"Thanks Davey. You're a lifesaver."

* * *

Later that night, Katherine lies on her back in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of nothing in particular and listening to Spot cut up pieces of paper and mutter under his breath.

The background noise of Spot going about his daily life had become a calming, safe kind of noise to Katherine. She looked forward to his weird quirks and closet antics.

Once she came home and found him in about seven different layers of clothes, including a formal dress of hers from about five years ago.

As she lays in bed, Katherine starts to wonder about the guy she met at the bar a few days ago.

He was definitely different than most people around here. He pulled her in, made her wonder, made her want more time with him.

And because Katherine has about as much impulse control as a child and the moral backbone of a chocoalate eclair, she checks the time (9:47, her father's sleeping), gets up and grabs her purse, and heads out the door. Spot doesn't even look, probably now used to her leaving with no explanation.

* * *

She sees him immediately, sitting alone at the bar in the seat he was at last time. She walks over to him and sits down.

"I've made up my mind."

He looks over and smiles his sly smile, the one that makes her _almost_ swoon, and leans a little closer to her.

"That's good, because I have some information you might want. I don't have any details, but I _do_ know that your Jack Kelly went to a boys reformatory."

Katherine leans forward on her elbows in interest. "You just don't know _why_ he went, though, right?"

He shakes his head. "This Kelly guy, are you two close?"

"In a way."

"Then I guess what I'm asking you is, are you sure you want to know what he did, or will it ruin your relationship."

"I want to know," she says firmly, pulling off her jacket.

Morris smiles and cradles his beer mug, then looks over her head and focuses on something behind her.

"Jack Kelly, is he tall, skinny, kind of scrawny with blonde hair?"

Katherine narrows her eyes in confusion. "Uh, no?"

"Then is he short with brown hair and green eyes?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because those two just walked in an zeroed in on us, and they don't look too happy."

This makes Katherine turn and stare straight into the stormy eyes of Jack Kelly himself. They walk forward, Race looking as uncomfortable as Katherine has ever seen him. Katherine turns to Julian, to apologize and tell him to ignore them, but suddenly he's gone. Leaving her to face the infamous wrath of Jack Kelly.

"The hell d'you think your doin' here?"

Katherine meets his stony glare with one of her own and grabs her jacket from the stool. "It's none of your business."

"Katherine, you don't know him, he's a rough guy. What happened t' you after the festival?"

She pushes past and ignores him, stopping only when he grabs her wrist. "What do you _want_ me to say, Jack? Do you not trust me anymore?"

"I trust _you_ , Kath. It's him I'm worried about. He has a history."

She sucks in a breath and pulls her wrist away. "Fuck you, Jack Kelly."

* * *

The next morning, Katherine wakes up to her phone ringing and groans loudly. She ignores it and falls back asleep. When she wakes up, she has three new messages from Davey that she chooses to delete.

After she gets ready to take her father to another meeting, she pulls on the jacket and sees something fall out of her pocket. It's a cocktail napkin with something written in it in red ink. Morris must have slipped it in her pocket before she left.

On it he's written his phone number.

"What is it?" Spot asks, peering over the bed at Katherine.

Katherine ignores him and shoves the paper in the drawer of her dresser, remembering what Spot told her about Morris Delancy and his past history.

* * *

 **UGHSHSIBJSJ guys I'm so tired what the fu C K. ok this chapter sucks BUT now we're really in business and shir is gonna get real soon. Also sorry if this sucks bc I am Done™ with this chapter. Buuuutt that's about it, hope y'all have a great day/night wherever you are!**

 **(also if any of you got my John mulaney joke bls let me know bc he is my actual father)**

 **((also also make sure to wish your dads a happy Father's Day if they don't suck or anything!))**


	6. smudged ink

**oof I'm back with a longer chapter bc I left y'all high and dry last time but this is the chapter where everything gets fucked so get excited. uuhhh seriously this chapter is like the biggest reason I wanted to even write this story and I made myself wait for it so hhhhh I'm so rEAD Y. OH also theres some p derogatory stuff said directed at ya boi Davey , and its rlly anti Semitic so just a heads up.**

 **so I don't have a lot to say I'll just get into it whoo.**

 **(ALSO HAVE ANY OF YOU LISTENED TO THE NEW PANIC AT THE DISCO ALBUM I LOVE IT)**

* * *

Katherine is in the middle of flipping through the Saturday paper (delivered by Specs, not Jack, who clearly was not over their fight from a few nights ago), when she gets a phone call. She jumps and hears Spot snicker from the closet, rolls her eyes and grabs her phone.

It's an unknown number, but she answers it anyway.

 _"Hey, Katherine, it's Morris."_

Katherine is taken aback and nearly stutters out a response. "Oh. Uh, hey M-" she cuts herself off before she can say his name in front of Spot. (Who looks up in interest when she answers the phone with such eloquence and grace.)

 _"We got cut off the other night, and I have some information you might want to hear about this Jack kid. Meet me at the Bowery around eight?"_

"Yeah, sounds good, I'll, uh, be there." Katherine is just _full_ of charisma and confidence tonight.

 _"Great. See you at eight."_ Katherine nods, realizes he cant see her, then agrees and stays goodbye.

She checks her watch and realizes she only has an hour to weasel someone into going with her and get ready. She can't get Davey, because she spit him through everything thenpast few weeks, plus he has his own problems, and she can't get any of the other newsies. Except... She dials the only number she can think of.

* * *

Racer runs his hands through his hair and sighs, pacing the length of the living room floor of the apartment he and Jack shared.

"I dunno, Kath. I hav'nt really done anything since... nevermind."

 _"Exactly Racer! This is your chance to get out and do something fun!"_ Race can practically _see_ her making puppy dog eyes as she says, _"please, Race?"_

Race groans and Katherine seems to take that as a _yes_ , squealing so loud Race has to actually move his phone away from his ear. Jack, despite sitting in the couch across the room playing Mario Kart with Mush and Smalls, looks up at the loud noise.

 _"Great. Can you pick me up at eight-ish, please?"_ Race agrees and hangs up, staring out the window dramatically until someone (Smalls) takes the bait and asks what's wrong.

"I have t' go outside." He says nobly and the three snort at him.

"That's ridiculous," Smalls says. "We go out all the time an' invite you ev'rytime, but y' just decide to mope th' whole time."

Race jumps on the couch from behind, squeezing in between Smalls and Jack. "I'll tell ya what's ridiculous." Race looks over at Jack, elbowing him so he pauses the game. "Jack, Smalls is snogging yer brother."

Jack drops his remote onto the table at the same time Smals yells, "Racetrack! I told you that in secret! Ya weren't s'posed ta tell nobody!"

"Wait, yer doin' it wit' Crutchie?"

Smalls stares at her remote and mumbles quietly, giving one small nod of confirmation.

"Dammit. That little bastard never told me. Oh man, is he in trouble! You jus' wait 'till he gets home!"

Smalls glares at Racetrack. "You dick. I told ya not ta tell anybody, 'specially Jackie."

Race shrugs. "That's what ya get fer making fun o' me. Anyway," he jumps off the couch and heads back to his room, calling over his shoulder, "I gotta get ready fer my _date_! You losers have fun," he says, slamming his bedroom door theatrically behind him.

* * *

Racetrack Higgins was absolutely _miserable_. Katherine was flat drunk, the person she needed to meet was two hours late, and every time Race saw a happy couple his heart hurt a little more than it had the past few months.

Don't get him wrong, Katherine was funny the first few minutes that were there. For a rich person, she wasn't a pain in the ass like her dad, but after her third drink she was a slurring drunk mess.

He decided he was done when she left a drunken voice mail to Jack, telling him to fuck off several times, along with calling him several unique insults (a monkey-faced ravioli noodle that puts over-cooked spaghetti noodles in his friends Gucci flip-flops).

Finally, he decides he's had enough. He gently grabs Katherine's arm and tugs her away from the top of her lemon drop. "C'mon Kath. He's not comin', let's go home."

Katherine grabs onto the edge of the bar and holds on with dear life. "Noooo, Racer, Race, Racetrack Higgins, he said he would be here, he told me, he _promised me_."

He tugs harder and she hangs on harder. "Kath, he lied ta you, he's not gonna show up."

At that same moment a brown-haired, average height guy shows up, sliding into the stool on the other side of Katherine. This guy only makes Race grip Katherine's arm tighter because he looks like the kind of guy your phone gives you an Amber alert about.

The worst part is, Race recognizes him almost immediately. He tugs in vain again, because Race knows this guy and he _hates him_ , and he knows that if Katherine gets close to him she'll be in trouble and won't know how to get out of it.

"Let's go, Kath." She still doesn't move, but stares, transfixed, at the guy beside her. She seemed thrilled by his presence, despite the fact that he's two hours late and hasn't apologized for it.

"Morris!" Katherine tugs back on Race's arm and points at Morris, grinning. "Racer this is the guy, look he's here!"

Race doesn't acknowledge him and grabs Katherine's coat from the stool she's sitting on. "Katherine Edith Pulitzer I am not leaving this bar without you, let's go."

Morris stops him. "Why don't you leave the kid here? I'll take her home." Race feels the panic rising in his chest threatening to close in his throat when another hand lays itself gently on Katherine's arm.

"I don't think so."

Race almost cries with relief when Davey appears beside him. He takes the coat from Race's arms and and starts trying to coax Katherine out of the seat, to no avail.

"Who the hell are you?" Morris asks, and Race's inner alarm starts telling him _get out get out get outgetoutgetoutgetou-_

"Wait, I know you!" _Getoutgetoutgetout-_ "you're that guy who stole my wallet. What are you, a Jew, stealing all my stuff? You owe me money, you greedy bastard!" _GetoutgetoutgETOUTGETOUTGETOUT-_

Morris is suddenly leaning heavily against the bar, clutching his jaw and clenching his eyes shut. Both Race and Davey let go of Katherine, having the immediate effect of her letting go of her death grip on the bar. In the corner of Race's eye he sees Jack Kelly himself, holding his fast and breathing heavily.

He physically lifts Katherine from her bar stool by her waist and carries her out the door. Race and Davey anxiously follow after him, grabbing whatever belongings were left behind, leaving Morris standing clutching his face.

Outside the air is cold on Race's face, and he almost feels the need to open his mouth and pop his ears after the loudness of the bar compared to the quiet parking lot. Beside him, Davey looks as anxious as Race feels, which gives him comfort in knowing that he's not alone to face the wrath of Jack Kelly.

In front of them, Katherine is fighting and punching Jack's chest, yelling and screaming muffled, slurred insults into his chest. "Which car did ya drive?"

Race hurries over and unlocks the car door, and Jack unceremoniously wrestles Katherine into the back seat. Davey takes the front passenger seat, and Jack becomes the unappointed driver, leaving Race to deal with an angry and swearing Kathrine in the back.

"Did you drink?" After both of them answer no, the car lapses into an uneasy silence. By this time, Katherine has fallen silent, her head resting gently on Race's shoulder, and by the time they pull up to her house, she's asleep.

Neither Race nor Davey are strong enough to carry Katheine so it's up to Jack to carry her again. He picks her up gently and carries her up the long sidewalk to her house, leaving Race and Davey alone.

"So-"

"Why the hell would you take her to a bar, especially with knowing who she was meeting?"

Race is taken aback, because this is the first time he's ever seen Davey actually angry at something.

"I didnt know she was meeting that guy! I can't read minds or anythin', Davey! Get off m' back!"

"Yeah, but you could at least made sure she left when that guy showed up!"

"I was tryin', Davey, you saw that when you showed up! How d'ya even know we was there, anyway?"

Davey pulls out his phone. "I assume the message was left for Jack, but Katherine sent to to my phone."

"Be real with me. How pissed is Jack gonna be?"

Davey laughs ruefully and leans against the car, staring at the house partly obscured by trees. "I'm just glad I don't live with him."

Race laughs too, banging his head on the car and grimacing. Davey mumbles something.

"What?"

"I'm going to college."

"Oh. When?"

"Next year, when the first semester starts. It's out of state, so I'll have to move, but it's worth it."

"Congrats t' you, Davey. You's gonna be a college man now. The jokes are just runnin through m' head, Jacobs."

"Shut up."

* * *

Jack was trying his hardest to be quiet and careful taking Katherine up the fire escape to her room, because frankly, he's scared of her, but he can't help it if her stupid, unnecessary fire escape (seriously, who uses fire escapes anymore?) creaks, and that Katherine is the lightest sleeper in the planet.

She immediately pushes herself out of Jack's arms, despite the fact that she just crashed harder than a car on the highway, and nearly falls over the side of the fire escape. Jack grabs her arm and pulls her away from the fire escape, but he underestimates her lack of strength due to being drunk, and he pulls harder than necessary, making her fall into his chest again.

She pushes away from irritatedly. "Don't touch me," she mumbles, almost incoherently, because she's drunk and tired and shouldn't be standing on a fucking _fire escape_ with Jack Kelly, and just wants her bed and quiet room. She tries (unsuccessfully) to open her window, and instead ends up pounding her head on it repeatedly, making her headache worse.

"Hey, don't get mad at _me_ ," he says, holding his hands up, " _I'm_ not the one who went to the bar with dickhead Delancey. That was all you."

Katherine steps closer, despite better judgement telling her to just go inside and sleep off everything. She and Jack are nose-to-nose, glaring at each other with malice lighting their gazes.

Suddenly Katherine's lips are pressed against his and he doesn't resist, but then she's pulling away and he's confused because _what just happened_? and now Katherine is standing there looking like a lost, sad puppy and he desperately wants to reach out and console her but instead he just stands there, dumbstruck, as she starts pacing back and forth across the useless fire escape with her fists clenched, worrying her bottom lip.

"Uh." Jack says, stepping back and als most falling down the narrow stairs, "I'll just," he jabs his thumb behind him like an idiot, "y'know."

Katherine whips around, and Jack is surprised by how panicked she looks, her eyes wide and scared. "Don't leave."

So he doesn't. He stays with her on that stupid fire escape all night, but he's gone when she wakes. The only thing he leaves behind is a drawing of her sleeping on the fire escape, on an old piece of newspaper he always seems to have tucked in his pocket.

Idly Katherine wonders what happened last night. She doesn't remember a thing except that Jack stayed over on the fire escape with her.

She stands, then realizes how cold and stiff she is. A blue shirt falls off her shoulders and she recognizes it immediately. Jack, the idiot, gave her his shirt, which means he walked home without it, so he probably caught a cold, but she appreciates the gesture anyway.

* * *

Jack arrives back at the apartment early, and the first sight he sees is Race, sprawled on the couch, and Davey, curled in a ball on the floor, and both look exhausted. He realizes, witha pang of guilt that they left the car for him and walked home, which means they're probably both pissed and tired, and now he'll have to deal with it himself, because Crutchie isn't home, and the usual boys that hang around are oddly absent, so he's on his own now.

He wonders when he's going to get that shirt back.

* * *

 **BJDKBHDHVIDVHI y'all this story just got started. we aren't even halfway through yet jbdkbkhkhbd. so I actually wrote a majority of this on like Monday of last week and then had a bunch to do and never got around to finishing it, but it's here now, sorry for the delay,,,, I promise we're back to a normal schedule now, don't worry. bls forgive any spelling and grammar mistakes I want to get this over with.**

 **have a great day/night all of you!**


	7. frayed corners

**shnsihsb mostly just a filler chapter but it has some good plot points so get excited bitches.**

* * *

Katherine meets Jack at the end of the long sidewalk today, holding his blue shirt in one hand and money for the paper in the other. She watches the snowflakes fall gently around her an tugs down her hat, praying her father doesn't see her and is still occupied by his conference call, and that his curtains are drawn tightly in his office.

She finally sees him and straightens as he walks up the main road. "Hey stranger," she says, handing him the money and shirt, "you forgot this."

His face splits in a grin as he takes the shirt and money from her, handing her a newspaper in their place. "Thanks, I almost froze t' death on th' way home th' other night."

Katherine leans against the mailbox and smiles back. "That was your own fault, cowboy. I never asked you to give me your clothes."

Jack sticks his tongue out at her, and catches some snowflakes on it in the process.

"It's peaceful, ain't it? It's heavy, too. Perfect for snowmen." He looks at the mailbox, snow already an inch deep on it, then raises his eyebrows when Katherine scoffs jokingly.

"I've never built a snowman before."

Jack slaps the mailbox and Katherine jumps. "Katherine Pulitzer. You is telling me you've never _ever_ built a snowman in your entire life?"

Katherine shrugs, glancing behind her nervously. She only had a certain amount of time until her father's meeting was over, so she had to hurry. "I have to go, I'll see you later."

He nods as she runs off, wondering what he said wrong. He watches her hurry in the door and close it behind her. At least she didn't bring up their weird moment the other night, aside from giving him the shirt back.

He shakes his head and continues on his route, the snow falling serenely around him.

* * *

The snow may be falling thicker and faster than it was two hours ago, but Joseph Pulitzer would be damned if he didn't make his hair appointment. The winter holidays were coming fast, and this could be the last time he has time before he's bombarded by remaining family and coworkers wishing him well, dropping by unannounced and sending countless gifts.

Katherine is trying to hurry, honestly, but it's hard when she keeps breaking off what she's doing to correct Spot on a detail of her story from the other night.

"Spot, it was the fire escape, not the hood of his car."

"Does it really matter? I actually don't think you's tellin' me ev'rything, Princess. What did ya do after ya kissed, huh?"

Katherine fixes her hair in the mirror, cringing as her father calls for her again. "I'm not doing this right now, I'm late."

She closes her bedroom door softly behind her, smiling softly at Helen on her way out the front door.

Her father nags her the entire ride to the barber shop, and she's grateful when he finally exits the car.

"You'll pick me up at three-thirty, correct?"

She nods. "Yes, but I can't help if traffic is slow because of the snow. I told you you should just wait for another date when the snow isn't-" he cuts her off as he slams the door shut behind him, and Katherine leans against the steering wheel and lets out a long breath of air.

There's a frantic tapping on her window and she looks up to see Davey waving at her.

She opens the door and steps out beside him. He takes one look at her face and asks, "Coffee on me?"

* * *

Five minutes later Katherine finds herself pouring out the events of the last few days (Davey sympathizes about her father, and is not surprised about the fire escape incident), until her coffee is empty.

"Enough about me, how have you been?"

Davey has an excited gleam in his eyes and he blurts out, "I got in! University of Virginia accepted me! My letter came this morning, oh Katherine, it's finally happening!"

Katheine grabs him in a tight hug and they bounce up and down together, laughing and screaming like two-year-olds. They ignore the people walking by, cause for one second, the only thing that matters is them, and their pure happiness.

Then the snow picks up, and Katherine has to go, because if she doesn't leave now, she's going to be late to pick her father up from his appointment.

Davey assures her that he's going to be okay when telling the boys, and sends Katherine on her way.

Of course, though, because of Katherine's luck, the snow decides to pick up, and she's hurrying to get to the barber through the snow, which has frozen to ice on the road.

She finally makes it (in the nick of time, too), and her father isn't too uptight about her close call with time.

They are so close to home, when suddenly they hit a bump, the car skids off the road, and Katherine blacks out.

* * *

She wakes up in her bed, though she doesn't remember how she got there, and the first thing she realizes is that it's nearly dark out. Her forehead burns and her muscles ache in protest, but the lukewarm plate of chicken, corn, and mashed potatoes is too enticing to ignore.

As she eats, she notices the closet door is closed and momentarily panics.

"Spot?" She calls out tentatively, and sighs in relief when the door opens dramatically and she sees her personal closet squatter in the same spot as always.

"Thank god, 's 'bout time ya woke up, I was 'bout ta go crazy with boredom," He says, eyeing her plate of food with distaste. "How long has that been there?"

Katherine shrugs. "How long was I out? Actually, scratch that, what happened?"

"I heard th' front door open when I was up here an' figured it was you gettin' home, but then there was a buncha frantic-soundin voices an people runnin' up the stairs, so I closed th' closet door and thank baby Jesus I did, 'cause a whole lot o' people burst in here and- jus' kiddin' there were like two other people in here, talkin' bout a car crash or somethin' like that. I guess ya skidded on ice and crashed inta a telephone pole. The people in here said you'd be okay, but ya look kinda shitty ta me."

Katherien takes this in, then shrugs. "Seems like my kind of luck." She ignores Spots comment and sets the now-empty plate on her nightstand, yawning.

She rubs a hand across her eyes and tell Spot she's going to sleep some more, who hums and starts working on some other project involving lots of paper cutting, and she's lulled to sleep by the repetitive noise.

* * *

Katherine's awoken again by a wet smack against her window, and sits up in bed, pulling the covers up against her shoulders. "Spot," she whispers, "did you hear that?"

His muffled yes is cut off as another smack hits the window and slides down.

She jumps out of bed and hurries to the window. The power must have gone out around town, because the only light glowing on the soft, snow covered ground and the silhouette on the ground is the moon.

She opens the window and whisper-yells into the cold, "Jack, what are you doing?"

"You told me you's never built a snowman before, right? 'M here ta teach ya how!" He rolls another snowball.

"Are you insane? I'm not coming down there in the middle of the night to build a snowman with you!"

Jack hefts the snowball and looks at the many windows on the house. "Oh really? An which window I'd yer father's?"

Katherine laughs. "You wouldn't dare!"

"I dunno, I've been know ta do some pretty crazy things," he says, aiming for a random window on the house.

"Okay! Okay, I'll be down in a minute."

She ducks back in the window and starts pulling on warm clothes.

"Who was that?" Spot asks from his closet.

"Jack. He wants to build a snowman," she says, struggling to pull her boots on.

"Get some, girlie!" He exclaims. Katherine shushes him and starts climbing out the window onto the fire escape.

She slip-slash-steps down the narrow stairs and lands softly on the ground beside Jack.

"Remind why I'm out here again?"

Jack smiles and pushes her lightly, which almost makes her fall in the snow.

The next thirty minutes are spent laughing and cold, during which Katherine proves she can't make a snowman larger than a foot and a half ("It's a _small_ snowman, okay? Not all snowmen have to be as large as yours!"), and Jack falls face first into the snow when Katherine pushes him.

As he falls, he grabs her arm and pulls her down with him, so they end up on their backs in the snow, laughing up at the moon and stars, shoulder-to-shoulder on the snow covered ground.

Jack looks at the armless snowman sitting tall next to Katherine's small one and remarks, "I dunno Kath, I think I won th' snowman contest. You jus' can't compete."

Katherine picks up a handful of snow and pushes it down the collar of his jacket. "Shut up."

He jumps up and tries to get the snow out of his jacket before it melts and gets him wet, and the priceless look on his fac is one that makes Katherine glad she came down in the first place. Before she can stop him, he picks up a snowball and throws it at her, and she barely has time to jump up before it hits her in the leg.

The next ten minutes are spent throwing snowballs back and forth, trying to muffle their laughter and screams, so they don't wake up the entire neighborhood.

Eventually, they find themselves on the roof above her bedroom, leaning against the wall of the attic, which makes a small bare spot on the shingles where the roof above it shaded it from snow and ice.

Katherines breath comes out in puffs of visible air that quickly evaporate in the cold night air, and she breathes a deep sigh.

"Uh, when you were throwing snowballs an drew stuff earlier, I noticed a scar on your arm?" It comes out like a question, because although Katherine is confident and fiery, she isn't skilled with confrontation, and she has a feeling this story isn't a good one. She has her suspicions it has to do with his past trouble with the law.

Jack immediately stiffens beside her, and Katherine regrets ever asking, but never says anything in the hopes that he'll say something.

"So uh, when I was about, I dunno, 15 or 16, I got in trouble for loitering and was taken to this 'home for troubled boys'. The warden they had there was a real mean guy, always smackin kids 'round an' makin' me do stuff they didn't need ta do.

"Well, that's when I met Crutchie, an' when he was younger, he had a lot more trouble with his leg than he does now, right? So this Warden Snyder, that was his name, he decides that it's okay ta beat up on 'im, an' one day he took it too far, so I jumped in an took the brunt of it for Crutchie. The scar showed up a few weeks later."

Katherine's mouth is dry as she listens to Jack's story. "I don't know what to say. Jack, I-" she stops at the look on his face.

She looks away, down at the ground, the silence, once so comfortable, now tense and filled with nervous energy.

"So Davey's goin' ta college, right? Did he already tell you?"

Relived at the change in topic, Katherine latches onto the conversation with vigor. "He told me a while ago, when he was still looking at different colleges. He didn't want to tell me, but I made him. He's excited."

Jack looks at her out of the corner of his eye, the moonlight giving her a silvery complexion. "You gonna be sad when's he goes?"

Katherine shrugs, hugging her knees to her chest. "I dunno. I'll miss him, but I can still visit him, and he's not gonna be gone forever. I think college will be good for him. Give him something to do with his brain, you know?"

Jack nods, but doesn't say anything.

"I just hope he makes some friends. He can't spend the whole year holed up in the library or his dorm. If he doesn't meet at least one person by the time I visit him I will force him to, no matter how hard it is."

She looks at the moon and realizes how early it must be getting.

"I should go. I have to get up early tomorrow, but with me luck explaining this-" she waves around the yard- "to my father."

She starts to slide off the roof onto the fire escape below. Jack follows her down, and they land softly on the metal floor. Thankfully, the snow cushions their fall, so the sound is muffled.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Jack asks, smiling a little.

"Assuming I'm not in my grave after my father gets to me."

They laugh.

"And, I'm sorry, if I crossed a line or anything earlier, I-"

Jack holds a finger up to shush her. "Don't worry about it. Maybe it's better if we don't keep secrets from each other, huh?"

Katherine's heart pangs as she remembers how Jack was probably close to Spot, and here he is, living in her closet and she hasn't said a word about it. "Yeah." She says simply.

On his way home, Jack stops and puts his scarf on the snowman, and it sways slightly in the breeze in the morning air.

* * *

 **alright y'all I give up with this chapter. I feel so burnt out with it, i fuckingg quit. there ain't much to say, but please forgive me for this clusterfuvk of a shit chapter jsjsnonos**

 **have a great day/night wherever you are!**


	8. author's note

**guess who's takbig a break from this story? this gal,,,,,,**

 **alright, I sincerely apologize for the last chapter, I wrote most of it in a sleep deprived stupor, drunk off lack of motivation and high off hatred for the chapter itself. there were elements that hated, because I had the whole chapter storyboarded and everything, got bored with it, and addded things that I never mentioned after. so the next time I work on this (hopefully in a couple weeks), it'll prolly be just to fix that chapter, them I'll get to work on the next.**

 **no, I will not be abandoning this story and I won't be gone too long, I just need some time to stop fucking myself over,,,hsjshdg**

 **have a great day/night wherever you are!**


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